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“Astria, baby, let’s go get ready for bed, and then Daddy can come to tell us a story, okay?”
“Daddy, story! Daddy, snug!” Astria blows kisses in my direction over Gia’s shoulder as she walks from the living room and into Astria’s bedroom, giving me some privacy. I’m a lucky bastard.
I hit answer on my phone before it can go to voicemail. “Hey, Carter, what’s up? Shouldn’t you be celebrating somewhere? You guys just won.” I flip back on the television but mute it, curious as to whether I missed something important after the game ended.
They haven’t even had time to make it out for the press conference. He’s got to be calling me from the locker room, which is weird as shit. It’s just not something we do. Maybe shoot a text or something, but there’s no reason for him to call me right now.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got a pretty little thing waiting for me out in the hallway.” I can hear his smile through the phone, and I know for a fact he’s talking about Sylvia. “Listen, I need a favor.”
What could be so important that he needed to call me from the locker room?
“Whatever it is, you got it. I owe you, man. You pulled me out of the slump I was in after my accident. Whatever you need, I’m there.”
I’d never admit to anyone else that I struggled after my accident, but I did. I was scared. I wear more pads than any other player on the fucking team because it’s my job to stand in front of a puck flying ninety-plus miles an hour. How the fuck a slice to the neck almost ended my life is beyond me. It’s hard to get past that.
“Can you be in California by Friday?” he asks quietly as if trying not to be heard over the chaos that I can hear in the background. The locker room might be loud, but the gossip mill in that room is louder. Trust me, I know. You’d be surprised at how much can be heard through the whispers. Few secrets survive.
“Awe, thanks babe, you got me tickets to a game, I’m flattered.” I lean back on the couch, unsure of where he’s going with this, and why now.
“No, fucker, we need a goalie.” My heart stops beating - cold turkey. I reach two fingers up to my raised scar and feel for a pulse in my neck. “Henegan’s down again. This time he’s going to need surgery, and it’s not looking good. Our second-string guy is shit. I showed Coach your footage, and he wants you. Show up Friday and do your thing. If he likes what he sees you’ve got a chance at being called up as a free agent for the remainder of the season. Who knows what that could lead to.”
My heart feverishly pumps blood into my veins; a welcomed reminder that I am very much still living. A luxury I almost couldn’t afford.
“Stop fucking with me, Tolar.” It’s all I can manage to say.
“The only person I plan on fucking is my wife. Which reminds me, she’s waiting for me. Be here on Friday, Henderson. This is your chance, don’t fuck it up.” And with that, he hangs up. I drop the phone down on the couch next to me and stare up at the ceiling.
This is your chance, Damien. Prove yourself.
This is my chance. Prove it.
∞∞∞
GIA
The television plays in the background as I try to set Astria up with her dinner in the living room so that I can watch the game and make sure she eats at the same time. I’ve had two different commission requests come through my website that need my immediate attention. No biggie, I’ve got this, I can multitask.
Damien is in California. I can’t believe it. Freaking California. I knew it was only a matter of time. Finally, he’s getting his turn. I know some people wait much longer, but given how quickly his world was rocked, and his future was stolen from him, he needed this. This might very well be his only shot. Chances like this one are one in a million. The future of his hockey career is hanging in the balance of one single game.
It might sound dramatic, but it feels very real.
We couldn’t all afford to fly out to California. Damien is spending the weekend with Sylvia and Carter, and I’m here with Astria. I can’t up and leave my classes this close to the end of the semester. Especially not knowing what the future holds for us yet. This whole dangling-in-the-balance thing is a little unsettling, but it’s better than the alternative. We have hope. This is what we’ve been working toward.
The game hasn’t started yet. Commentators for the game are debating on who might win the matchup tonight between the LA Renegades and the Washington Capitals.
I thought about wearing my Rafferton jersey tonight, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. The last time I wore it we were in Chambliss. Maybe it’s a little superstitious, but I’m not willing to risk that kind of juju on tonight’s game. Instead, I’ve dressed Astria in one of Damien’s old practice t-shirts as a nightgown. It still swallows her, but she’s adorable. I sent him a quick text with a picture of her before the game and wished him luck.
“Yeah, Reggie, the LA Renegades are big news tonight. In an unprecedented decision, they’ve called up Damien Henderson as a free agent to play in tonight’s game against the Capitals.”
I freeze when the commentators mention Damien’s name on national television. I stand in the middle of the living room and wait on bated breath for what they’re going to say about him.
“Henderson’s the former goaltender for the Rafferton Ram’s. With only a couple of years under his college belt, he had a promising future, until a fight on the ice nearly ended his life and cost him the remainder of his college career. Since then, he’s been making a name for himself on social media, of all places.”
Oh God, I swallow hard. I know he’s going to rewatch this later.
“We’ll see how social media translates over to ice time, Reggie. It’s a big step up for such a young kid, and it’s a big risk for the Renegades if you ask me.”
Well, that was uncalled for.
